


Noble Futility: LOMAX

by sepiarose



Series: Noble Futility [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU: Noble Futility, Act 6: Act 4, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Illustrated, M/M, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepiarose/pseuds/sepiarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk, Jake, Roxy, and Jane made it into the Medium. Now what?</p><p>Jake struggles to figure out exactly what he's meant to do on his big, green planet of puzzles and adventure. As fun as that sounds, the task ahead of them is truly impossible. Like, literally impossible.</p><p>If their job is simply to ready the way for the true heroes, does any reward or resolution lie ahead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dirk, Jake: Enter

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally being written as a choose-your-own-adventure type deal, but with illustrating and writing the whole thing, I started to realize that Homestuck would probably be completed before I finished this fic lol. If there's enough interest, I may pick it back up and re-release it, but I'm still very new to writing and illustrating both. (This is my first fic, so be kind :P)
> 
> This picks up after "Jane, Dirk, Jake, Roxy: Enter" and during Act 6: Act 4. I felt really cheated after seeing the short little flash and decided to fill in the blanks myself :D
> 
> However, it diverges from canon there (and technically, I re-interpreted a bit that happened before that...) and ceases gaining any influence from the plot.
> 
> As I mentioned before, this was initially written as a choose-your-own-adventure type thing so I was going to leave the romance optional... now you're stuck with Dirk/Jake (EVENTUALLY).

  
>

Your name is Jake English, and right now you couldn’t possibly be more peeved with your friend. The breathtakingly green green hills topped with crumbling temples, the restless ultraviolet aurora in the sky, the mysterious purple glow emanating from the nearby canyon, the fact that you are on a planet of adventure made just for you are surprisingly not at the forefront of your mind right now. All you can think about is how reckless your bloody, damn stupid bro is. 

Only a few hours ago, you were tricked into smooching your best friend’s severed head. Also, this was only moments after you discovered he might view you as more than a friend. Not only that, but you did this embarrassing thing in front of your other two best friends... AND the jerk who sent you his head himself. How dare he?! Absolute hogwash! Does he seriously think this type of thing is funny? You thought he and poor Janey were dead, and for what? Seriously. So he could trick you into kissing him?! Ugh...

Even though he acts like you’re being self-centered for even thinking such a thing, it was still too reckless! How dare he put himself at such risk without at least consulting you? You could have helped! You may not be a genius like Dirk, but you can sure pull your weight in a scrum! Also, it’s just plain rude to leave your friends out of your plans like that. He could have died and no one would have known what to do. He could have died... and what would you have done?

Your mind runs in circles as your arms tighten, defiantly, across your chest as you keep your back on your annoying “pal”. Finally, your anger boils over and when you turn around, you find he’s perched on top of a broken stone pillar, surveying the landscape.

“What in the blazes are you doing up there, Strider?!” you exclaim. Seriously, you’ve been here five minutes and he’s already pulling a stunt like this!

He doesn’t respond. He just keeps his hand on the rim of his shades and peers around. 

Infuriated, you begin to huff off, but your Skulltop bleeps to let you know you’re being pestered. You open your sylladex and plop it on.

 

 

 **timaeusTestified [TT]** began pestering **golgothasTerror [GT]**

**TT: Calm down!**

**TT: Dude, you cannot seriously expect to solve this puzzle and get our proverbial asses in this game without analyzing our surroundings, do you?**

**GT: This... this is not happening.**

**TT: What?**

**GT: The absolute audacity of you, Strider!! I cannot believe that only minutes after meeting you in person for the FIRST time you send your auto-responder to explain yourself to me.**

**GT: I am SICK to death of talking to this infernal contraption!!!**

**TT: It seems you’re being a bit of a pussy there, Jake.**

**TT: Also, ever consider I might be getting a bit sick of your relentless, demoralizing attacks to my sensitive, caring, yet also stunningly badass programming?**

**TT: Utter bullshit, bro.**

**GT: UGHHHH...**

**GT: I am NOT doing this right now.**

**golgothasTerror [GT]** **ceased pestering** **timaeusTestified [TT]**

 

 

You power off your Skulltop, toss it on the ground, and glare up at Strider. “Blast it! You are being a complete arse! Get down here and speak to me face to bloody face!”

You see his shoulders shrug and can practically hear the sigh, despite the wind. He hops casually off the top of the pillar and walks over to you, unhurried. 

“Yes, English, what is so damn important?” he says, his voice only barely betraying a tinge of annoyance.

“Umm...” you struggle, suddenly overcome by the realness of finally being face to face with your bro, “What you did was bloody reckless at the least! And... and weird and inappropriate at worst! You.. you... should have considered your friends before pulling a reckless stunt like that! And it’s not polite to trick a fellow into kissing you!”

You blush a bit at mentioning the kiss, adjusting your collar. Your face only reddens deeper as you glare at his stupid shades, desperate for some kind of reaction. The purple glare on his shades from the sky obscures his eyes completely and the blasted things are so big they cover most of his face anyway, making him completely unreadable. You might as well be talking to Brobot.

“You done yet?” he asks coldly.

 

[ ](http://www.flickr.com/photos/58362923@N02/8418864341/)

 

You ball your hand into a fist and punch his bicep, right in Hella Jeff’s stupid pixelated face, before your brain can protest.

“Ow! What the hell, English?” he whines, seeming truly shocked for a moment as he rubs his arm.

Redder than a tomato, you try your best to ignore your burning cheeks and play it off.

“That was for leaving us out of your plans, you rutting idiot!”

He lets out a small puff of air and keeps staring at you, but his shades don’t betray any emotion. He is as still as a statue. Some kind of badass anime statue, if you’re being specific, but emotionless as marble. Staring defiantly back into his shades, reality suddenly hits you. You feel small. Like you did after throwing a tantrum at your nana. You finally cave and avert your eyes to the ground, hands in your pockets. Nervously, you bunch up the fabric in your pockets.

“I did what needed to be done. Didn’t exactly have a lot of time to coordinate with you all with the planet being destroyed and all.”

Maybe you have a bit of a dramatic streak. Dirk’s not an idiot. Hell, he’s damn near a genius! Your emotions sometimes speak louder to you than reason.

“Boy, Strider. I... I sure am sorry for acting that way. I should never have doubted you. You’re my bro and... well, consarnit! I just care about you so much. And after that whole confusing hubub with you and Jane and blast it! I just don’t know how I feel right now and tricking me into kissing you like that... I know it’s part of your aggressive, take-no-prisoners courtship... but... well, blimey, that’s not how I wanted it to go down... There’s just so many irons in the fire right now and I don’t even know what I’m meant to do in this game, but golly I’m sure it’s important that I not mess it up. And..”

Dirk rests a hand hesitantly on your shoulder. You can feel the slight jerk before he actually makes contact with your shirt. 

 

[ ](http://www.flickr.com/photos/58362923@N02/8418863881/)

 

“Where did you get such a fuckin’ ridiculous idea in that stupid brain of yours? ‘Aggressive courtship’?! I was savin’ our asses! I’m on the same side as you, English. I wouldn’t do something so irresponsible just to steal a kiss from you. Besides, that Dirk is dead now. I didn’t even get to experience those plush lips of yours myself.”

Through his glasses you can make out a sly wink. That bastard. He makes kissy lips at you and you snort.

“Anyway, we need to cut out the middle-school drama and get to work. You, of all people, should be fuckin’ blowing so many gaskets at the idea of a whole adventure planet that we should be lookin’ up mechanics in the phone book.” 

That infernal blush returns again to your cheeks. What a pompous ass you’ve been! You join his side at the precipice of the mound and take in the spectacular view.

 

[ ](http://www.flickr.com/photos/58362923@N02/8419961190/)

 

At the foot of the mound, at the end of the path of destruction it left, is your banged up little home. You suppose it was near enough to the ruins to get transported with you. When it entered, it must have rolled right off the mound. An icy panic floods your veins as you think of the potential damage to your posters and movie collection. The blue babes! Your pristine DVD’s! The babes!!! You bow your head in solidarity, mourning the mint condition of your collectibles. Guess there’s really only one way to assess the damage.

To your right (the East? It’s hard to assign Cardinal directions on an alien planet...) are miles and miles of crumbling, green mounds much like the one you and Dirk are currently atop. However, you estimate about four miles away, a stark purple light shoots up out of the ground, cutting across the landscape. It appears to be emanating from a canyon, running as far as you can see, out to the horizon in fact.

To your left (you’ll just call this one West, it’s easier that way) are a scattering of red-rust colored Stonehenge-like formations. From your vantage point, you can see four of the ruins atop much smaller mounds and one, presumably very large, set of ruins peeking up out of a crater a few miles off.

  

Your mouth curls uncontrollably up into a smirk as you ponder what kind of top-notch adventures you’re about to have out in this brilliant planet with your best bro, when you notice a red glow coming from Dirk. He has a hand on the rim of his shades and a 3D map is projected from them onto the ground; at the bottom of the map are a series of icons that look like gems with corresponding numbers, most of which are zero, but one with a blue icon which says 2,000.

“Well I’ll be, Strider ole chum! That’s quite the little parlor trick you’ve taught AR!” you say and peer down into the map.

He glances out the side of his glasses to your face and you catch a rare glimpse of his eyes. Are they amber? Gold? They’re so dark behind his shades and he turns so you no longer have a view  “Yeah, I’d have more detail to it, but a certain someone just HAD to call me down to drop a drama bomb all over me. Like I’m some poor bastard country with all the cool resources and you’re the greedy fuckin’ guy sending drone bombers to just fuck up my coolness reserves. You can try to keep me down with all your lameness, but you know what Jake? You can’t bomb the cool out of Striderlandia, it’s just fuckin’ impossible.”

You give a snort and laugh at his over-exaggeration, thankful that he’s making light of an awkward situation. Also, while you’ve talked to him for years online, you never once considered that being from Texas, he’d most certainly have some kind of accent. The slight Southern twang to his voice clashes adorably with his tough-guy anime persona he likes to throw up.

“Well then, I suppose I ought to let you get back to scanning or doing whatever you’re doing up there while I come up with a plan! What a rip-snorting good adventure we’re going to have!”

He rolls his eyes with such force that you swear you can feel a change in the gravity.

“That sounds more like the Jake I know. Did you wanna check out how wrecked your shit is first?”

You wince. Oh yeah... your house.

“Yeah. I guess I should go assess the damage.”

“Or... you know... get supplies so we don’t fucking starve to death on your green jungle boy wonderland.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Home Sweet Home

Your poor home. It’s not exactly like you were a neat freak (quite the opposite if you’re being honest), but it was an organized chaos you had going on. All your guns were piled together by type, you had painstakingly separated all your DVDs from your comic books in separate piles, and your clothes were almost always all shoved together in the same chest of drawers! And now what? Everything is going to be scattered all over the place. Ugh.

This might actually be the last time you can ever call this place your home and it’s all jacked up. Your heart sinks a little bit. It’s actually a little sad.

“Well, better go check out the damage...” you grumble to yourself.

Dirk finishes up the scan and flash-steps off the pillar and ahead of you on the stairs. It’s unnerving to see him do this in person. You’ve heard him brag about his speed, but you never believed he was really that fast.  

He stops a steps down from you and beckons you with two fingers, mockingly. Oh, this is going to be fun! Thankfully, Strider has the gentlemanly decency to not flash-step the whole way down and you two bolt down the steps like children running into Disney World. It’s neck-and-neck for a while there, then you stumble a bit over a kicked-up stone and, although you recover quickly, it’s just enough to let Strider overtake you. 

He skids to a halt and has just enough time to put on a show of casualness. He pivots on his heel, puts a hand over his mouth as he utters a fake yawn, and leans back against the wall of your house. He does this in the two seconds before you come barreling down the slope, and in your frazzled state (seriously! Just look at that smug asshole!) you trip over a root and skid on your face up to his feet.

He stares at you and for just a moment you see a flicker of a smirk, then he’s back to his normal stony expression. You smile triumphantly, knowing even if you didn’t beat him, you’re at least succeeding in breaking through that icy Strider facade. You will make him laugh, dammit!

Dirk leans down and offers you a hand up. Still panting, you pull your knees up under yourself and take his hand. Standing up, you dust off your shorts and cast an adventurous smile at Dirk.

“Well, seems you didn’t exaggerate that legendary ‘Strider speed’! I could barely keep up with you!”

He cocks an eyebrow up “You _didn’t_ keep up with me.”

“I did for a while there! If it weren’t for that dag-blasted root I daresay I would have beaten you!” 

Another hint of a smirk appears on his lips “In your wet fuckin’ dreams, English. Let’s go check out your ruined shit.”

Dirk draws his sword from its sheath and stalks up to one of your windows. The entire downstairs entryway has been broken off your house. Now the globe-shaped remainder of your home lays on its side. This does not bode well for your babes... 

Well, it does appear your house has been flipped, turned upside down, not unlike a certain lovable urban prince’s life. It’s actually more like it’s turned 90 degrees, flopped over onto its side. Your empty uranium canisters, your guns, your movies and clothes are now piled up in the center of what were once your walls. Your bed, somehow, managed to get flopped right-side-up and sits majestically atop a pile of guns and DVD’s in the very middle of the room.

A beam of light streams down through one of the windows (that now, if you think positively about it, is a kickass skylight!) and dust motes float through the sunbeam like little angels floating down to earth. You yawn as you look at the bed, considering how epic and heroic you’d look napping there.

Dirk prowls around your stuff, flicking movies and posters over with his sword as he goes. You realize this is the first time Dirk has seen your room and it’s _beyond_ being simply messy; all your personal things and thrown about for him to see. 

“Pardon the mess! I wasn’t exactly expecting company at this hour!” you shout and give a hearty laugh at your own joke.

Dirk turns around, holding his sword out to you. Dangling from the tip of his sword are a yellow, silky pair of bloomers. 

You snatch them off the sword and hold them behind your back, blushing furiously. “They’re very comfortable! There’s nothing quite like sleeping in silk bloomers on a summer night! My dear sweet grandma left those for me.”

“Suurreee. I’m sure lil’ Jakey doesn’t wear silky panties because he likes the way he looks in them. Surely not!”

“Oh, can it, Strider!” you shout, blushing. “We’ve seriously got to get our act together here and stop acting like children!”  
He lets out a huff of air that could almost be considered a laugh and you mark that down as another success; a success at your expense, so really just a net neutral, but who’s keeping track? You try and think of anything else as your cheeks refuse to return to their normal temperature. At this point, Strider must think you’re one of his blushing anime girls. On second thought, he might be into that... Ugh...

You take stock of the mess of your room and spy some movies that don’t appear to be completely damaged. Your collector’s edition of “Avatar” seems to be just fine! You clutch it to your chest, then quickly pop it in your sylladex before Dirk can chastise you. You have enough room in your sylladex to pop in a few more things you don’t want to leave to rot, so you decide to bring some more essentials: a sniper rifle, your Indiana Jones golden idol replica, your sealed Spider Girl #001, several canteens of water, some canned corn, pumpkins, your complete collection of “James Bond” DVDs, a box of matches, a first aid kit, a slightly-dinged up anniversary edition statuette of Laura Croft, a sleeping bag, a large coil of rope, and some cans of delicious spotted dick. You know, the basics!

Your sylladex now has a set of symbols in its HUD similar to Dirk’s holographic projection. Your series of gems all mostly have 0’s, except for one blue one, but yours has 20,000 next to it instead of 2,000. Maybe because you’re the most experienced? Maybe because you’re the last player in? Who knows.

A shadow passes by one of the windows near Dirk and your dart your head towards it, but nothing is there. However, you notice Dirk is kneeling down, fooling around with the portal Roxy had sent you. It’s leaning against what used to be your floor, stuck in a pile of posters.

“Sup Strider?”

“Just seeing if there’s a way to salvage this plane and make a connection back to Roxy or some other plane somewhere. I’m assuming we’re supposed to get off this planet and on to mine at some point. From what Jane’s said, we have to build up to the gates in the sky.”

“Think this ol’ window thingy will help?”

“The fenestrated plane? Yes, I think it might come into play. You need to power it up somehow though. And knowing how you are with uranium... I’m assuming we’re gonna have to find something else to power it up with.”

“Oh, I do love my uranium! It’s just so flippin’ useful!”

“And hard to come by...” he growls under his breath and stands up to look at you. “English, you’re a goddamned mess. You gonna clean that shit off your face or are you planning on looking like a rough-and-tumble street urchin for the duration?”

You touch your face and feel the dried dirt crusted on your cheek. “Come to think of it, chap, I quite fancy this look on me!” you pop out both of your guns from your strife specibus and spin them in your hands before pointing them at Dirk and giving him a wink. “Suits me don’t you think?”

His jaw goes a little slack, but he composes himself in a matter of seconds and shakes his head “English, you’re completely fuckin’ shithive crazy.”

You smile and pop your pistols back in your specibus.

“Let’s head back up and make us some badass weaponry!”

“After you, my lord,” Dirk says with a faux accent and a flourishing bow. You roll your eyes and head back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to be cutting back on the number of illustrations. It's just taking me a bit too long to get these chapters out and it already had a pretty slow start.
> 
> Ughhh...


	3. Armed to the Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... I was having some problems with Photoshop and kinda ruined the two illustrations for this chapter. I started re-doing them earlier but it's just making me so frustrated. I decided it's probably best for my sanity to not include illustrations in this part.
> 
> More pictures in the next chapter, I promise!

You trudge back up the mound with Dirk, ready to see what all you can alchemize with the grist you have. As you ascend, you recall what Dirk said about building up to the gates to get off-world. You look up and sure enough, about 200 feet up into the sky, there is a series of pulsating green glyphs. It reminds you of a spyrograph drawing. Your grandmother got you one of those as a child. You had nearly forgotten about that thing.

Finally at the top, you wipe some sweat from your brow and head over to the equipment. You take in the equipment, trying to remember what Jane told you about what each one does. The gist of what you remember is that the Cruxtruder is used to make a Cruxite Dowel, the Punch Designix uses the captcha from captchalogue cards in your sylladex to make a unique code, the Totem Lathe uses the code to carve Sthe Cruxite Dowel, and finally the Alchemiter uses the carved Dowel to create a new object. Simple as that! Science!

“Hmmm, what do you think I should make, Strider? I’d love some new guns!”

“Didn’t you bring, like, fifty freaking guns in your sylladex?”

“A fellow can never have to many guns! Or computers for that matter!”

He shrugs and looks up at the gates above you. “At some point, I guess we need to work on getting up there. However, with our currently-lacking stash of grist, maybe it’s better to focus on weapons and armor to help us in collecting those fat stacks of gems. This game’s all about that chedda’.”

“Hmm... So guns it is!!”

He huffs a little bit (you’re gonna start taking that as all-out laughter from him at this point) and you begin making a Cruxite Dowel. After you place the dowel in the Totem Lathe, you head over to the Punch Designix and sift through your sylladex for ways to improve your guns. Hmmm, well from your studies in action cinema and video games, you know that there’s really only one thing that makes weapons stronger- gold. You contemplate using your Indiana Jones replica golden idol, and mull it over a bit, thinking of how hard it will be to replace, before deciding a true hero must make sacrifices. Yes, you’ll use that. 

However, you can’t bring yourself to alter your authentic Luger’s. Those aren’t just replicas, they’re antiques! They were handed down to you from your grandma who got them from her grandpa. They’re perfect as they are. Yes, you wouldn’t change them one bit. You opt to modify your Desert Eagles instead. Those pistols pack a deadly punch on their own, they’ll be unstoppable once they’ve been infused with badassery, and by badassery you do mean solid flipping gold! Indiana Jones gold, at that!

You smile at your perfect plan and create the card in the Punch Designx, carve the dowel in the lathe, and take it over to the Alchemiter. It looks like this is going to use quite a bit of your grist, nearly 10,000, but you judge it’s a small price to pay to fulfill your role as hero of this world.

“So, what kind of badass hand cannon you making, bro?” Dirk asks as he joins you by the machines.

“Oh, you’ll see,” you say with a grin. 

You que up the machine and hope you got it all right. There’s a bright flash of green and suddenly, where the dowel was, a pair of golden pistols lay, smoking and looking ominous. 

You clap your hand on Dirk’s back, jolting him forward a bit. “By jove, look at those beauties!” you exclaim as you run up to grab your guns. It’s like Christmas Day for you. You smile and spin your guns around your fingers a few times, admiring the way they shimmer in the light.

“Wow, English... That gold sure will make the bullets hurt more... Yup...”

You completely disregard the sarcasm dripping from his words.

“I daresay it will, ole chap. Everybody knows when a hero gets golden guns, he’s nigh unstoppable!”

“If you say so,” he says with a visible smirk across his lips. “I guess you would be the expert on action heros.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, to see if I can’t get some more suitable clothing. I always dress for adventure, as you can see, but I don’t know how well protected I’ll be against the beasties we’re sure to face. Hmmm...” you say and scratch your chin.

You search through your sylladex once again and pick out two of your most action-filled movies and decide to combine them with your outfit. Surely that will give you the most advantage over any challenges you’re about to face. You head over to the Alchemiter, freshly-punched card in hand, deciding that another 6,000 grist is definitely something you can afford. Dirk joins you once again.

“Got your new sick duds all cooked up and on your lil’ recipe card there?”

“Oh yes, this is sure to give us the advantage in any scrum! It’s a recipe for ass-kicking for sure!”

“I’m on pins and needles,” he says and you can feel the eye roll.

“Hmph, you’re totally gonna be jealous and you know it!”

You stand on the pad with the dowel and ask Dirk to activate the machine for you, so you can instantly try on your new armor. He flips the switch and you’re bathed in green light for a second. 

Dirk’s jaw drops so low it practically hits the floor. He peers over his pointy shades at you and covers his mouth with a lightning-quick hand. 

“Wow, Dirk, am I that badass looking?” you smile and look down at yourself... then you notice your blue shiny skin... oh god...

Dirk falls over to the ground, clutching his knees to his chest he’s laughing so hard you’re worried for a second he’s having a seizure or something. Bloody hell.

You try and get a better look at yourself, and from what you can tell the machinery did the exact opposite of what you intended... but exactly what the literal interpretation of your choice in movies would be. You look like a perfect mix between Laura Croft and Neyteri. Your skin is glittery and blue, you have on ridiculously-short khaki shorts, skin-tight turquoise tanktop, sexy thigh holsters, a tribal necklace made of fangs and feathers and your hair... oh god you feel back and you have an honest-to-god ponytail ending in pink fibers. You grab your rear and feel you have a tail attached to your pants as well.

Your cheeks are on fire and you cover yourself like you’re naked. Dirk is red in the face, tears streaming down his cheeks. He still rolls around in the dirt, completely out of control with hysterics. You take a moment to appreciate the honest emotion he’s portraying, before going back to being completely emasculated and totally embarrassed.

“Um... well this certainly isn’t what I was hoping for...” you captchalogue that ridiculous outfit and re-equip your normal clothes. “Let’s just forget that ever happened,” you say eyes staring at your feet.

Dirk is still rolling around cackling and it finally gets under your skin.

“Okay, okay!!! It was really flipping dumb of me to pick those two movies. Maybe I should’ve picked Indiana Jones or 007. I was hoping for a sweet mech getup not... this... I know.. I know.. ‘Jake dressed up like a girl, what a pansy!’ Yeah, I get it!”

He sits up in the dirt and lifts his shades to his hair to wipe tears from his eyes “Oh, god, Jake. A blue, space furry!!! With micro-shorts!!” He falls back over, cackling again “Oh god, make it stop!!!” He begins rolling back and forth again on his back, making painful noises in between his bouts of laughter.

“Bro, not cool. Cut it out!” you yell and kick some dirt at him.

He is completely taken over by laughter, totally impervious to your attacks. Rage fills up your chest and reddens your face. This stopped being funny, like 30 seconds ago. What is his problem?!

You leap onto him on the ground and straddle him, shaking his shoulders, knocking his glasses loose. He still has tears streaming down his eyes, body wracked with laughter, as you shake him “STOOOOPPPPP!!!! For frig’s freaking sake, it’s not that bleeding funny!!”

He takes a few deep breaths and wipes the tears from his eyes and smiles at you. His eyes are orange. Bright orange like a sunset, flecked with bits of gold throughout and suddenly dark at the horizon of his irises. They’re mesmerizing. You forget about his mockery, and just take in his eyes. They’re creased at the corners from his smile, a little puffy from crying and laughing so hard, but they’re still so startlingly... beautiful.

The creases around his eyes smooth out and relax. He’s talking, you realize, and shake your head to look at him. “Huh?”

“I said, first you gonna dress up all sexy like, now you’re jumpin’ my bones huh? Jesus, Jake, you haven’t even asked me to the ice cream social yet. I don’t want you thinkin’ I’m easy,” he chuckles with a wink.

You push off him, offering him a hand up, trying to look away from his mesmerizing eyes. “Hehe, yeah... Wouldn’t want that...”

He takes your hand and stands up, dusting himself off. You turn your back on him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Confused by all your feelings right now. He is literally the first person you’ve embraced in almost 10 years, and you’re most likely the first he’s been in contact with... well ever! Your stomach feels all twisty and weird. Maybe it’s just all new.

Dirk puts his glasses back on and places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you like that... Honestly, you were doing a good enough job of it yourself, I really didn’t need to add to it. You okay?”

You turn to look at him, frustrated that he’s put on his stony face and covered his sunset eyes with his blasted shades. You take a bold move and push them up onto his hair and look him in the eyes. One of his eyebrows cocks up, giving you a curious look; his eyes big and expectant. Now you think you know why he wears those ridiculous shades. His eyes betray his every emotion. They flicker from scared, nervous, anxious- all as plain as day.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, shaking off the weirdness from the embrace. It’s just been so long since you’ve been in physical contact with another human. You’ve never grappled with anyone other than Brobot, and it left you feeling all weird after being on top of Dirk like that.

Not to mention, you’re definitely focused on Roxy’s not-so-subtle hints at his attraction to you.

“Just, a little strange. I hadn’t really given it much thought, but I don’t suppose I’ve ever touched anyone like that before. I don’t mean that in any kind of sensual way! I’m just saying... I’ve only ever been around my grandma, and that was so long ago...”

“Hey, dude, it’s fine. I got a little carried away by laughing at your adorable furry getup and you got a little carried away with blinding rage at me. Totally understandable.”

“Haha, well, glad to see you’re such a good sport about it. I just don’t want to... you know... endanger our friendship.”

“Maybe less cross dressing and straddling would be a good start to a healthy, bromance. Although, you know if you ever want a piece of my fine Strider ass, all you gotta do is ask. I’m like a ripe, untouched America, waiting to be claimed for the English over here. Say the word and I’ll let you plant your flag any old place.”

You give a loud laugh and clap him on the shoulder. Back to the old suggestive, totally platonic flirting you’re used to. “Right-o! So, ready to get to the action?!”

He grins wider than you thought was humanly possible.

“Oh you know I’m game for your action, sweet cheeks.”

You try your damnedest not to blush. You fail. You’re really going to have to build up a resistance to his japes and fast.

And stop thinking about his hypnotic eyes.

Definitely that too.

 


End file.
